Heart and Soul
by IronWoman359
Summary: We've seen them before. Most recently, in Markiplier TV. But what are they planning? The YouTube channel "Markiplier" has a colorful cast of characters, each with their own agenda. Will they be able to get over their differences to accomplish their goals? And, do we really want them to?
1. The Proposal

p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;""Shoot him, you have to trust me. Shoot him!" he insisted, but to no avail. br /The gun went off with a bang that echoed throughout the alley. As he fell to the ground, the last thing he heard was that old familiar voice reassuring the shooter. br /"You made the right call. Come here..." br /The voice faded as the two survivors left the alley and the last thing he saw was that face, emhis face/em, glancing back at him as he walked away./p  
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p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;""NOOOOOO!" br /Darkiplier screamed as he was ripped from reality, desperately trying to cling to what little strength he had left there. But all his efforts amounted to nothing. He was back in the void of thought, where all he could do was watch as Mark took his date to the ice cream shop. Watching the two of them talk so calmly to each other, even after the horror they had just witnessed made his stomach twist with anger. He let out another cry of rage, and his form twisted and changed. Mark's face disappeared from his features for a moment and his true form flickered into exposure. br /"What the bloody hell is going on over there?" The voice that called through the void was deep and slurred, and Dark recognized it instantly. He twisted his neck, and the facade of Markiplier quickly returned to his frame. He turned, and pulled at the lapels of his suit jacket straight as an eccentric figure approached him. br /"Wilford." Dark straightened his tie and nodded curtly to the figure. br /"Well, if it isn't ol' Darkiplier!" Warfstache cried with a chuckle. "Last time I saw you runnin' around here, you had a foolproof way of getting our old pal Markimoo to let you in again." The sly reporter tapped his chin in mock thoughtfulness. "By the looks of things though, it didn't turn out to well, eh?" br /Dark glared, and he felt rage building up inside of him, but he contained it. br /"I was this close." he hissed, holding up two fingers. "This close to gaining control. I had his stupid little date completely hijacked, and the idiot was going along with it, too." br /"His date, eh? Can you elaborate exactly what happened on this...emdate/em?" Warfstache asked, twirling his pink mustache around his index finger. br /Dark turned back towards their window into reality, where Markplier was, of course, making a fool of himself as he ate his ice cream. His date didn't seem to mind though. As always, no matter what that idiot did, people still loved him. Dark clenched his fists, and his form flickered again for a moment, before he turned back to face Warfstache. br /"His power comes from them." He gestured to Mark's date, who was still sitting calmly with their ice cream. "Everything that he's done, he's done because of those emfans/em of his. So I thought, why not take what makes him strongest for myself? If emhe/em won't let me in, maybe THEY will." br /"And I take it that didn't go to well?" Warfstache asked as he pulled at his suspenders. Dark pushed his hair out of his eyes, and frowned. br /"I was tHIS CLOSE," he said, his voice breaking into yells as he struggled to contain his anger. "I had them in the palm of my hand, but HE came back, and they chOSE HIM OVER ME. AGAIN." He glared down at the pair at the ice cream shop. Mark was sitting silently with a goofy grin on his face, and the date was staring straight ahead, unmoving. No doubt, Mark had just offered them another choice, perhaps to start the date over. Dark's blood ran hot just thinking about it, and he felt cracks beginning to form in his cool demeanor. "I offered tHEMbr /aNYTHING THEY WANTED. I pROMISED them tHEIR HEART'S DESIRES. But they always go running bACK to HIM." br /"You know..." Warfstache slurred, "It's not surprising. Mark knows better than to let you in, so they do too." br /Dark's mask broke for a split second at those words, and a twisted yell escaped from inside him. Warfstache waited until the glitching subsided, then continued as if nothing had happened. br /"But me," he grinned mischievously. "He's not as afraid of me as he is of you. None of them are." br /Dark laughed at that; a low, sinister sound that echoed around them in the void. br /"They really should be," he said, a cool smile playing across his stolen face. br /"Now, I know that, and you know that," Warfstache agreed. "But THEY don't know that, do they?" he pointed out, wiggling his eyebrows. The two of them looked back through to reality, where Mark was starting his date all over again. "Now," Warfstache continued. "I have an idea that may be just what we need...and I've already got several of the others on board." br /Dark cocked his head /"Who do you have in mind?"br /"Bim Trimmer and Doctor Iplier want in, and Google's considering it. And that's just the beginning! Everyone can benefit from this! Especially you." br /Dark regarded the proposal thoughtfully. Wilford Warfstache wasn't the most stable of individuals, but he was powerful. He would likely prove to be a useful /"What exactly is your plan?" Dark asked. Warfstache grinned. br /"Oh, just you wait, Darkimoo!" He stretched out his suspenders with the tips of his thumbs, and his grin widened. "It's gonna be emrevolutionary/em."/p  
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p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"strongAuthor's Note:/strong/p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"If you have suggestions for what Markiplier characters to include in this fic, let me know by either sending me a review or following me on tumblr ironwoman359 and sending me an ask. I have plans for Darkiplier, Warfstache, and Googleplier for sure, but I'm open to more ideas. Thanks for reading!/p 


	2. The Pitch

The conference room was buzzing with talk as everyone argued over the pilot sample that Warfstache had just shown. Darkiplier rubbed his eyes, sighing to himself as the others fought over their roles in the sketch. This was not going as well as he had hoped. Suddenly, the glass door to the conference room slid open.  
"I, uh...I'm King of the Squirrels," a man with cheap robes and peanut butter on his face announced before closing the door again. Warfstache and the others looked surprised at this, and Dark took the temporary silence as an opportunity to speak again.  
" _Look_ , Will. I respect you. I always have," he acknowledged. "But you're missing the point of this endeavor." A few of the others nodded in agreement, and Warfstache threw up his hands in defeat.  
"All right, all right, OK! God..." He sighed and pushed his hair out of his face. "What do you think Septiplier?" he asked, turning to face the only member present who hadn't spoken.  
"Kill me! KILL ME!" the miserable creature cried out, which was pretty much the only thing it ever said. Warfstache laughed and pulled out a revolver.  
"All right, whatever you say, you little scamp!" He chuckled as he pulled the trigger, and the mass of limbs and suffering stopped flailing. Dark rubbed his temple, and he could feel his glitches growing larger and more unstable. This had been a largely pointless meeting. He should have known better than to trust Warfstache to come up with something actually useful. The Silver Shepherd stood.  
"Look, if you aren't going to take my participation seriously, I'm just gonna go back to fighting crime." He walked slowly towards the door, stopping right before he opened it. "Aren't any of you...gonna try and stop me from leaving?" he asked hopefully.  
"I don't care what the hell you do, Shepherd," Warfstache slurred. "I didn't even want you to come." The Shepherd pouted and flipped off the room's occupants as he left. Dark sighed again, and glanced over at Google, who caught Dark's gaze. The AI shook his head in frustration, a glitch making the movement jerky and unnatural. Ed Edgar stood up noisily. "Whelp, I think this is a waste of my time if you won't even put any of my adverts in, so I'm just gonna go too, unless there's anyone left who wants to buy my son? Hell, I'll just give him away if that's what you want. Anyone?" His query was met with silence and a few blank looks, and he frowned. "No? Alright fine then. Fuck you..." he mumbled grumpily to himself as he sauntered out of the conference room. He was followed out by Bim Trimmer and The Host, who was still muttering narrations to himself.  
"Thanks for trying, Warfy," Bim called over his shoulder. "But I'm gonna need some legitimate representation if you want me to reconsider my position."  
Warfstache sighed, and plopped down into one of the now empty chairs. He looked across the table, where Dark and Google were still sitting. Doctor Iplier was in the corner, checking the vitals of the unmoving figure. He stood up, and looked Warfstache in the eye.  
"I'm sorry," he said dramatically. "Septiplier is dead." Dark rolled his eyes at the doctor's dramatic display, but Warfstache waved his hand dismissively.  
"You all saw, he asked me to do it! Besides, he was just a useless waste of space."  
"I don't know, Wilford," Dark said, his voice reverberating through the now mostly empty conference room. "He had a way of sticking to the consciousness of the community. It never mattered what Mark did to stop him, the fans wouldn't forget him. Power like that would have been useful to us."  
"Septiplier's primary objective was to die," Google pointed out. "His existence was as big of a hinderance to himself as it was to Markiplier, perhaps more so. He would not have assisted us."  
"What would you know of being forgotten, anyway?" Doctor Iplier asked, frowning at Dark. "Everyone always remembers you, no matter how long you've been away. They remember all of you!" He added, gesturing around to the characters in the room. "They saw Google once, over two years ago, and have barely seen him since. But they still remember him more than me!"  
"Aw, c'mon. How can you know that for sure?" Warfstache asked irritably.  
"Searching..." Google said, text scrolling by in front of his face. "Confirmed. Doctor Iplier first created in April of 2013, and 1.026% of Markiplier fanfiction is specifically about Doctor Iplier. My creation was in October of 2014, and 1.538% of Markiplier fanfiction is specifically-"  
"Ok ok, spare us the analytics, Google," Warfstache sighed, running a hand through his hair.  
"They don't take me seriously!" Doctor Iplier said, glaring at them all. "I've been around just as long as you, Warfstache, I deserve the same recognition that you do!"  
"Are you suggesting fans take Wilford Warfstache seriously?" Google asked, and more text began scrolling in front of him, which he began reading aloud. Warfstache stood up and started yelling at the doctor.  
"Listen here, you little shit, I am Wilford Warfstache, and-" Doctor Iplier stood as well, and started talking over him.  
"Oh, do you know what's best now? Do you? Well _I'M_ a doctor, I think-"  
"ENOUGH." Dark slammed his palm down on the table, silencing them all. "Wilford," he glared at the entertainer, glitching violently as he tried to contain his rage. "Sit down." Warfstache did so, mumbling expletives to himself. Dark turned his glare on the doctor, who sat down without a command. " _Now_ ," he said, straightening his tie and regaining his composure. "Let's remember why we're here. We want control of the channel. And we need more than a few sketches and a bad game show to do that."  
"Listen, that game show-" Warfstache began, but Google cut him off.  
"Analysis shows that you are incorrect, Darkiplier."  
"What do you mean?" Dark asked, his voice dangerously cold. Doctor Iplier tried to inconspicuously shift his seat a little further from where Dark was sitting, which he failed miserably at doing.  
"Every time that a sketch that contains one of us is uploaded to the channel, reaction from the fans is immediate." Google explained, as images of fan art popped up in front of him.  
"Yeah!" Doctor Iplier exclaimed, having given up on trying to get away from Dark. "That's why I wanted in on this in the first place! I don't care about taking over the channel, I just want to be remembered!"  
Dark nodded thoughtfully. He could feel himself still glitching, but the spasms were smaller now. Easier to control.  
"If we want to gain their power, we just need them to acknowledge us more," Google declared, the images vanishing.  
"Well that's what I was _trying_ to do," Warfstache slurred. "But apparently I was 'missing the point.'" He made air quotes with his hands, staring at Dark with an exasperated look.  
"Most of us weren't IN that, Will," Dark said, adjusting his cufflinks. "We need to be _seen_."  
"I have a suggestion," said Google.  
"Why am I not surprised," muttered Warfstache.  
"Put the meeting at the end," Google said, ignoring him.  
"What?"  
"We are all in the meeting. We can all be seen. Put the meeting in the video."  
Dark smiled slowly, a sight that sent shivers down even Warfstache's spine.  
" _Excellent_ idea," he crooned. Doctor Iplier frowned.  
"I don't see the point in that..."  
"I LOVE IT!" Warfstache cried out, his energy returning in an instant. "It makes everyone happy! We get to keep our clips, and you get your exposure!" Google nodded, a smile of his own playing across his face.  
"Then it's settled," Dark said, smoothing out his jacket. " _Nothing_ will stop us this time."


End file.
